


Kiss Kiss

by Last_Haven



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-08
Updated: 2014-01-08
Packaged: 2018-01-08 01:30:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1126811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Last_Haven/pseuds/Last_Haven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seven times they gave each other a kiss.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kiss Kiss

**Forehead**

                _“Here!”_

                England rocked back just in time to avoid a face full of frogs. Peering around the squirming fistful of amphibians, he found America grinning gapped toothily at his guardian. England raised a bushy brow as he sat the piece of wood he’d been whittling next to him in the grass. “Are those supposed to be for me?”

                “Yeah,” America laughed, trying to shove the frogs at England again. “I spent all morning catching them for you.”

                Looking at the state of the boy’s clothes, England didn’t doubt it. The clothes—and their child—would be a pain to clean, but England couldn’t find any ire in him to scold the boy. “That’s very nice of you, but they probably would prefer to stay here in your pond.”

                America blinked, looking down at the creatures. “You think so?”

                “Animals tend to.” England frowned as his ward’s lower lip began to tremble in a pout. “Easy there, lad—why so sad?”

                “Now I need to go find something else to be your present,” the boy sniffed, easily snatching a frog out of the air as it made a daring escape.

                England shook his head, impressed. “Don’t worry about that—I’m sure you’ll think of something else.”

                America dejectedly nodded; brows wrinkling together in sympathy, England leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss to the boy’s left temple, the only patch of his face that was clean enough, startling a giggle out of the boy.

                “How about we go put these frogs in your pond and then we’ll go inside and have lunch—would you like that? After that I’ll help you think of another gift.”

                Nodding, America waited as England picked himself up and strolled away with him to go release the manhandled animals.

**Cheek**

                America looked and started to smile as his England walked into the room, but then that smile swiftly faded as he saw England sigh before dropping into his chair. Watching the older nation groan as he tried to arrange himself comfortably, America scooted forward on his knees to kneel at England’s feet. “England, you okay?”

                His guardian smiled wanly as he eased his leg up onto the foot stool—the gash in his leg, his latest battle wound, must have been aching again. “It’s nothing, my boy. Don’t worry about it.”

                Lips thinning, America nodded and fiddled with his toy soldier for a moment before he glanced back up. Already England was drifting off, his head lolling to the side in a painful way that would leave him with a terrible ache in his neck when he woke up.

                Sighing, America sat his toy aside and got up. First, he found a pillow to prop England’s head into a more comfortable position. Then he dragged over the quilt that England had made for him three years back; draping it carefully over England’s lap, America stepped back.

                What else would England do if he was trying to tuck America in? America tapped his chin for a moment before he grinned. Carefully, he reached out to try smooth England’s hair down—a futile gesture—and then leaned over the arm of the chair to press a kiss to England’s cheek.

                In his sleep, England snorted, shifted briefly, but then finally settled in. Shaking his head, America giggled at his guardian before he grabbed his toys up to go find a room where he wouldn’t wake England up.

**Hand**

                America wished Canada would stop squirming next to him; hell, it wasn’t like his twin was even the one in trouble. The anxious movement was starting to make America nervous though, which didn’t help him suppress the urge to fidget under England’s intense glare. He almost sighed in relief when England pointedly flicked his fingers in Canada’s direction. His northern brother nearly scrambled out of the room.

                Listening to the loud click of the door shutting, America kept his gaze on England’s. If he stared at the reflection of the fire dancing in his eyes, America could almost ignore the quiet fury in his guardian’s gaze. It was when he was quiet that made the child in America panic.

                “America,” England began, jerking America back to reality. “I know that you are young. I know that I have been very… _lenient_ with you.” America snorted; England ignored him. “But I am running out of patience with you.” That glare silenced America once more, shivers creeping down his back. “I know about this-this nonsense that you’ve been trying to stir up lately-”

                America’s mouth fell open, outraged. He resisted the urge to hiss like a furious cat.

                “But I will absolutely not allow you to drag your brother into this, do you understand me?” It wasn’t really a question, but that look demanded an answer. America clamped his jaw shut on principle. “America. No more. Do you _hear me?”_

                The iron in his voice made America nod even as he scowled.

                England sighed and leaned back into his chair. “That will suffice. I expect the reports from your superiors will reflect this.”

                America bit his tongue—he was in enough trouble. He really didn’t need more. Turning on his heel, he reached for the door knob.

                _“America.”_ England’s voice forced him to turn back; the empire raised his hand and crooked his fingers toward him. Forcing himself to mind his tongue, America stalked back to center of the room. England waved him forward again. Resisting the urge to grimace, America realized what he wanted and contemplated walking out of the room anyway. But no, he really didn’t need more trouble. Steeling himself, he walked forward again.

                Twisting his hand so it was palm down, England offered America his hand. Haltingly, America reached out with his own and took it before finding the will to bend his spine so he could press his lips against the empire’s knuckles.

                England grunted, satisfied. “When you leave, tell them I need a new pot of tea. This one has grown cold.”

                Unbending his fingers, America straightened and stalked out of the room.

**Ear**

                Quietly, America leaned against the table—his knees felt like they want to give out. Next to him, England turned his chair so he could look at America’s messenger properly. “Repeat that for me? I think I misheard you.”

                The gleeful soldier shook his head and grinned. “You didn’t—I was instructed to tell you that Japan’s emperor has gotten in touch to talk about terms of surrender.”

                The words rang through the air, echoing for a moment before America surged to his feet, pumped in fists in the air, and hollered at the top of his lungs. England nearly slipped out of his chair, but managed to pretend he was just staggering to his feet. He would never know if America had seen his clumsiness since the next second the younger nation tossed an arm around his shoulders and dragged him over. Laughing, cheering, and shaking England all at once, America gave his ally a quick squeeze before quickly, and gracelessly, kissing England’s ear.

                England scowled at the loud smack, but that quickly vanished as he began to laugh as well. Tossing his arm around America’s shoulders, his cheeks started to smart from his grin.

**Nape**

                “Shit!”

                That was all the warning America got before England shoved him into a closet. Smothering a yelp, America tried to pull himself into the cramped space while England tried to squeeze in as well. They barely managed to shut the door when France walked into his office, India stepping in just after him. His and England’s plans for pulling a prank on France—just some fireworks stuffed under the chair to knock France off his high horse—weren’t looking so great.

                _So much for that idea,_ America thought as he tried to arrange himself in a more comfortable position; no luck there. He had to crouch, arms up in the air, fingers balled into fists just so the door wouldn’t open. England was no help, what with him trying to inch away from the door, but only managing to press himself further into America. _This would be so much nicer if I could at least put my arms down. How much closer is England planning on getting any-_

                America’s eyes widened in alarm as France took a step near the door. England, startled himself, pressed himself even further back. Before America could warn or stop him, England froze as he felt the press of warm lips at the back of his neck.

                Silently, America watched as England slowly turned his head around to stare at him. Sheepishly, America shrugged. The movement brushed his knuckles against the door, popping it open. France and India stopped talking to stare at the closet. Thinking fast, America yanked France’s nice white jacket down onto England’s head and then shoved the island nation forward into the room. Cursing, England stumbled and waved his arms into the air before him, trying to catch himself before he fell.

                To America’s delight, France yelped in terror and half jumped over his desk before realizing that it wasn’t actually a ghost lunging at them. America grinned at him and England as they both began to shout.

                India just shook his head.

**Lips**

                “You’re a _bastard_.”

                America beamed. “It worked, didn’t it?”

                “You are a nasty son of a bitch,” England drawled, glaring at him over the rim of his drink. “I should kick your arse down to Soho. And then kick you around until you drop into the Thames. You-you twit.”

                Laughing, America sat his drink aside. “Hey, now, England, watch the harsh language.”

                “Piss off.” Still, America could see he was starting to smile, so the taller blond tossed an arm over his friend’s shoulders.

                “Look, I’m sorry we got caught—but you gotta admit. The look on France’s face was totally worth it.”

                England couldn’t hide his grin at that. “That _was_ nice.” Shaking his head, he waved to the bartender as he got out his wallet to pay the bill. Drinks empty and bill squared away, they left the bar, huddled deep into their coats to avoid the chill.

                “We should do that again. Well, the fireworks thing—seems a shame to let that one go to waste,” America added.

                Shaking his head fondly, England smiled. “You can buy some next time—you’re the one who is so fond of them.”

                “Okay, I will. I’ll buy this giant ass roll of firecrackers and light them up.” He announced, gesturing wildly into the air. England chuckled. “I won’t even unroll the damn thing. Just set off this huge roll at once. France will hit the fucking _ceiling_.”

                England laughed outright at the mental image. “We’ll have to find a camera—or hope Japan has his on him.”

                “Oh, he will. He always does.” They fell silent for a few minutes as they walked back to hotel. America glanced at England, deciding that he still had enough liquid courage in him to do something potentially stupid before he opened his mouth. “So, we gonna talk about it?”

                Humming distractedly, England’s gaze was focused somewhere down the street. “About what?”

                “About what happened in the closet.”

                England almost tripped, stubbing the toe of his shoe against the sidewalk. He cursed, wheeling his arms around to catch himself; America grabbed one arm as England regained his balance. He pretended to be busy examining the scuff on his shoe while he carefully chose his words. “I don’t know what you’re talking about—did I elbow you or something?”

                America rolled his eyes. “Were you always such a bad liar? I don’t remember you being that bad.”

                Scowling, England yanked his arm away. “I’m not a liar!”

                “So does this mean you’re going senile? To forget so soon, man, I think that’s a sign of something-”

                England cursed at him and began to hurry away.

                Frowning, more at himself than England, America hurried up as well. “Wait, England, hold on, I didn’t mean-”

                “Nothing happened.”

                America almost stopped in surprise before he shook his head and reached out to turn England about. Ignoring England’s flustered growls, America held on. “Chill out—I know it was an accident.” It took a moment, but when England’s knees almost buckled with relief, America raised a brow. “It was, wasn’t it?”

                England blanched. “Of—of course! Who’d tried to make _that_ happen on purpose, huh?” America hummed thoughtfully as he let go and shrugged his hands into his pockets. England, heartened, blustered on. “I mean, that—that wasn’t even close to romantic. Even you have to see that.”

                He grunted noncommittally.

                “Please! If—if I wanted you to kiss me, it wouldn’t be in some cramped closet in France’s office as we tried to hide. I’m better at it than that, thank you very much.”

                “Alright,” America murmured. “So you’d never stoop to doing that.”

                Pleased, England nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, yes, exactly.”

                “ _So…_ what _would_ you do?”

                England paused, blinking owlishly. “Come again?”

                America smirked. “Say you were going to try to be _romantic_ and kiss me. What would you do?”

                Mouth flapping agape for a moment, England floundered. “Now, uh, w-why would I ever do something as stupid as that?”

                “Humor me,” America retorted, trying not to scowl.

                England’s eyes couldn’t seem to stay on America for longer than a second; they constantly darted between America’s face and their surroundings. At last, he licked his lips and started to speak. “Well, I’d—I’d find a better setting for one.”

                “A setting?”

                “Yes! Offices—pfft, how’d ever think a stuffy workroom was romantic? Not me!” he answered, voice climbing shrilly. America resisted the impulse to remind him about the office romcoms in his movie collection at his house. “No, no, you need something—grand. Somewhere with good lighting. Ambiance.”

                America glanced around at the warm glow of the street lights around them. Looking down the hill, he could even more distant lights of the city, twinkling like stars. It was a shame they blocked the actual stars, but it didn’t hurt too much. Turning back to England, he raised a brow. “And?”

                “And what?” England snapped.

                “That’s it? Nice lighting’s all you need for good romance?”

                “No, of course not! You—well, for one, you don’t want some idiot like France wandering in on you, so you can’t do it in his office very well, could you?”

                America grinned; he hadn’t seen a passerby yet. “Guess not. Okay, so somewhere secluded. What else?”

                England actually paused to consider it. “Well, some good drinks couldn’t hurt.”

                “We already had some drinks,” America reminded him, taking a step forward, closing the space between them.

                England stared up at him, face poker smooth. “Oh.” For a moment, they were both of them quiet, neither moving for more than a ragged breath. Just when America could almost imagine England leaning forward, the other nation jerked away, babbling something about background music as he hurried forward. America watched him as he started climbing up the hill; scowling, America jogged to catch up with him.

                England only slowed when he got to the steps of the hotel. To America’s slight surprise and amusement, he realized England actually had managed to stay mostly on point in his rambling. “And for one thing, I would make sure I wasn’t the one being towered over!”

                America blinked, head cocking to the side in his confusion. Before he could ask what that meant, England jumped up a step so that the inches difference in their height disappeared, reached out, and dragged America forward as he pressed their lips together.

                Warmth sizzled his lips like pop bubbles fizzing against his mouth; America shut his eyes and leaned in with a grin.

**Chest**

                “Did you— _shit_ —did you lock the door?”

                America groaned into England’s mouth. “Does it really matter?” England’s damn tie wasn’t coming loose and his mind was still caught between getting to the bed and getting more of that taste of England’s mouth. (Mint, Belgian chocolate, and a _lot_ of gin. America found it was actually a very addicting combination.) At that point, half the UN could come parading through the door before America would notice or care.

                England didn’t seem that concerned either. “Fair enough,” he grunted before he threaded his fingers into America’s hair and pulled him in, as if there was space between them left to crush. “Let’s see if we can make it to the bed this time, got it?”

                To be fair, England could have asked for a unicorn at that point and America would have agreed. “Yeah, sure, sure,” he mumbled as he finally began to unravel the knot of England’s tie. He grinned at his success before he popped the top button. Pushing the garment open, he peppered England’s chest with kisses before he lapped at his collar bone.

                England moaned deep in his throat, pulled America’s face back for a kiss before he shoved him to the carpet.

                They didn’t make it to the bed.


End file.
